


Caterpillars, Tomatoes, and Frozen Waffles

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Blow Jobs, Cooking, Cunnilingus, Face Sitting, First Time, Food, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, emotional honesty, food talk, navel gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Food is important, in ways that you don't entirely expect.





	Caterpillars, Tomatoes, and Frozen Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> My first Voltron fic! Hope y'all enjoy it! The timeline is a bit... well, squint and tilt your head, and it'll make sense! Maybe. 
> 
> I wrote this before I saw Season 8, apologies if anything is a bit wonky/contradictory.

"So," said Hunk, rubbing his hands together, standing in the kitchen in the Castle of the Lions, "what is it, exactly, that you want?" 

Lance was rubbing the back of his neck, and he was shifting from foot to foot, looking embarrassed as he ever did. 

"Well," said Lance, and then he closed his mouth. He was blushing, which was impressive. Hunk had always assumed he was shameless. “I had an idea. A bit of an idea, at any rate. I mean, all of my ideas are good ideas, but this might not be the right idea for _now_.” 

"I can't read your mind," said Hunk, and he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. He was tired, sore - they'd been training, and then Lance had sidled up to him as if he was trying to make a drug deal, and mumbled something about "do you think you could make me something... special?" in a frantic tone. 

It had reminded Hunk of being in high school, and someone trying to buy weed from his buddy, down to the shifty looks and the overly casual tone of voice.

"You can do amazing things with alien food," said Lance in a rush. "Do you think you could make some Earth food? Like, Earth food that tasted like Earth food, not just an approximation of what it might have been.” 

Hunk blinked. That wasn't what he had been expecting. He wasn't sure what it was that he had been expecting. 

"I mean, I've been looking for stuff to make food like the stuff from Earth," said Hunk. "Although I make no promises."

"Could you make, like... Cuban Earth food?" Lance rubbed the back of his neck, shifting from foot to foot. “Cuban Earth food from the part of Earth Cuba I’m from. Versus any other kind of Cuba, I guess. Maybe there’s a space Cuba, now that I think about it.” 

"Why so nervous, buddy?" Hunk put a hand on Lance's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. It was unusual to see Lance not being his usual... well, Lance self. Where was the wisecracking, or the bragging? 

"I know it's hard enough for us to find things that are Earth based in general," said Lance, although he didn't tell Hunk to let go. "It feels kinda... you know, selfish, asking you to get something that's specifically for _me_. Especially when we're all working so hard anyway."

Hunk shrugged, a bit at a loss for words. 

Emotional honesty could be embarrassing, especially from someone who was usually so good at hiding their own feelings. It was appreciated, to be sure! Hunk always appreciated having other people being honest about their feelings, without having to pull it out like a recalcitrant tooth. 

Just... well, changes in routine could push anyone off balance.

"You don't have to feel guilty about it," said Hunk. "I'll, uh... I'll see what I can do. And it won't be just for you. If I'm gonna make a whole meal, I figure everyone else could have some too." 

Lance shot Hunk a sunny smile, and then his usual cockiness came back. 

"Maybe if you introduce everyone to some _good_ food, Coran might start to figure out how to make food that doesn't suck!" 

Hunk snorted. "I think Alteans just have different taste buds than we do," he told Lance. "Or maybe Coran is just a weirdo with a preference for food goo." 

"How can someone have a _preference_ for food goo?" Lance's nose wrinkled.

"I had a cousin who would have lived on MREs if he had the chance," said Hunk. "Some people just have weird tastes."

"How did he not... pickle from the inside out? I feel like that would turn you into a _mummy_." 

"Maybe we're all going to turn into a bunch of Altean mummies," said Hunk.

"Do Alteans even have mummies?" Lance's face screwed, tapping his foot on the floor. He looked antsy. 

"Not that I know of, no," said Hunk. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," said Lance, and he sighed. His expression looked wistful. "That last planet we were on, it had, uh... it had some nice beaches, didn't it?"

"Apart from the fact that they were bright purple," said Hunk. 

"Well, yeah, but blue is part of purple, so if you took out the red it'd be blue," said Lance. 

... yeah, that was definitely homesickness. Not that Hunk would judge too hard - he was homesick himself. 

He threw himself into taking care of his friends, into working hard, into bonding with his lion and figuring out how to navigate as a human amongst who even knew how many aliens. 

Lance didn't seem to be just as good at it as he was, but then again, Lance was bad at distracting himself, as far as Hunk could tell.

"You wanna tell me about the food you're thinking of?" Hunk ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end at weird angles. 

"Well," said Lance, "okay. So...." 

* * *

Lance, it turned out, wasn't very good at describing food, apart from a lot of "you know, like pork, only it's got this other bit that's also sort of... green tasting" which wasn't the most helpful thing. 

Hunk could see what he could do, and he promised Lance as such. 

Then he went to bother Coran about taking them to a place to get food. 

"Meat? That's not too rare a thing to search for," said Coran, scratching his nose. 

"I need a meat that tastes... lean. But not too lean. Sort of...." Hunk made vague hand gestures.

"I'm not sure how meat can taste "lean" versus anything else, but I'll have to take your word for it that it's an earth person thing," said Coran. "I think the Swap Moon would probably have something."

"Awesome! Back to the space mall!" Hunk punched the air. "I can check on how Vrepit Sal is doing."

Coran snorted, and then went back to fiddling with the controls of the castle. "You know," he told Hunk, "you don't have to call everything a "space" something. We're in space, and will continue to be in space."

"Well, yeah," said Hunk, "but it sounds cooler if you put space in front of it first." He shoved his hands into his pocket. Hunk's fingers itched to go deep into the guts of the castle's control panel, to figure out just what it was that made it _work_ , but there was a time and a place for that.

It never seemed to _be_ the right time, but it would come eventually, right? 

* * *

They had more missions.

Things happened, because things always happen - there was the usual amount of drama, although Lance was shooting Hunk hopeful expressions - Hunk would have gone so far as to call them "longing," except that did it count as a longing glance, if it was longing for something that Hunk could _do_ , versus... well, for Hunk himself?

But eventually - eventually! - things calmed down enough (inasmuch as anything around the Paladins ever calmed down) that they could have an excursion to the space mall. 

Pidge wanted to get another version of that video game that she was always beating everyone else at, Lance wanted... well, Hunk wasn't sure what it was that Lance wanted, except maybe to stretch his legs and flirt with pretty girls. Hiro had missed a chance to see it the first time around, and claimed he wanted to see a "space mall," although he kept snickering as he said it. Even Allura was coming along, albeit in disguise - they all needed the break.

"So," Hunk said to Coran, as the two of them made their way through the climate controlled, well lit space, "where's the equivalent of a grocery store around here?"

"There used to be a bunch of open air food stalls," said Coran, "although in those days, of course, it was more complicated, because --" 

Hunk let Coran's talk wash over him, making vaguely affirmative noises as he made his way along the moving sidewalk. 

It was... surreal to be in a mall - it was like any other mall he'd been in on Earth, except everyone here was a different color (and not just the standard different color, but colors that didn't come natural to human beings), or had extra limbs, or horns, or lacked noses. 

Everything was a weird mix of mundane and completely alien at the same time, and the whole thing took on an almost dreamlike quality. Sometimes, if Hunk squinted a little bit and looked sidelong at some things, with no people in frame, it could feel like he was back at a mall on Earth, maybe getting dragged along by a friend who was trying to pick up some guy or girl.

Then someone who was bright blue would walk by, or someone with extra limbs, or there'd be a burst of some alien language on the PA system that could never have come out of a human throat, and Hunk would be jolted back to the present. 

It was all weird mix of exciting and... well, alienating, although he was rolling his eyes at his own pun inside of his head. 

Then Coran tugged on his sleeve, and Hunk jerked out of his daze. "Hm?"

"There's a place called Whole Galaxy Foods," said Coran, and Hunk let out a bark of laughter, because it seemed that some things transcended species, transcended planets, and landed back where they started. 

"That's a good start," he told Coran. "C'mon. Let's go." 

* * * 

Hunk spent a ridiculous amount of time in the grocery store. He had more money now, thankfully - what with one thing and another, he'd been able to scrounge up a decent amount of GAC. 

... okay, so it turned out that one planet's idea of "valuable thing" was a really shiny rock that was readily available on a different planet, but sometimes you needed money for stuff, and besides, who was Hunk to judge?

He spent almost two hours, just wandering around, talking with people behind what must have been the equivalent of deli counters, or fruit stalls. 

... he was still thinking in terms of Earth time, even though technically he didn't live on Earth anymore. When was he going to say "ticks" instead of "seconds," things like that? 

When would he become so detached from time that Earth time didn't _count_?Did Earth time still count, when he wasn't even connected to Earth's sun anymore?

Hunk paused, his face buried in some kind of screaming pink berry that was shaped like a muffin, and he frowned. 

Maybe trying to make a specific Earth meal was making him homesick - he could believe that. He missed his family like he'd miss a limb - he'd go to text his aunt a new recipe he'd found, or think of calling his mom, only to remember they were out of his reach now.

But there was nothing he could do about it.

He'd told Lance he'd make space-Cuban food, and he was going to do it, fuck it all.

... were there space Cubans? According to the multiverse theory, there was a version of everything _somewhere_ , so in theory there had to be a space Cuba, even if it was nothing like actual Cuba.

Hunk sighed, a long, deep sigh, and then he put the pink muffin berry back. 

It wasn't what he was looking for. 

He'd seen some Earth stuff, scattered around here and there - an Earth chocolate bar that was so exorbitantly expensive that it was _insulting_ (who would pay five thousand GAC for a Hershey's chocolate bar?!), a few bags of chips claiming to be "real Earth flavors!" like "orange" or "seabass," which were... intriguing, but probably foul. 

But he knew what he was looking for. 

Sort of.

Mostly.

Certain flavors were universal, right?

He’d be able to find them!

* * *

So space pork (or at least, the meat that tasted the most like pork) turned out to come from a giant caterpillar, space beans were actually berries (from what Hunk could understand from the guy talking to him), and space guava was more like a potato than anything else - he saw the guy dig it up out of the ground, although it did have that specific “kick you in the face” scent that guava tended to have, albeit mixed with what seemed to be… coffee grounds. 

Yucca, inexplicably, lived in space _as_ yucca, but then again, yucca were hardy plants. 

Rice was also itself, but rice was rice was rice, from what Hunk could tell. There were variations, to be sure, but at the end of the day, it was still… well, rice. 

Thus supplied, Hunk made his way back to the castle.

He was going to cook _such_ a feast tonight!

* * *

He roasted the caterpillar first - the whole damn castle somehow found a way to loiter nearby, until Hunk (nicely) kicked them out, promising them a proper meal later. 

He couldn’t work when someone was hovering! Either they would work or they would go hover elsewhere!

The caterpillar meat didn’t shred the way that pork would have, which was a bit of a problem - from what Hunk remembered of Cuban cuisine, there was shredded pork involved. He’d gotten something like a description from Lance, although Lance wasn’t the best at using food words.

Still.

He ended up chopping it, mixing it with the rice, and then boiling the beans (they popped like popcorn, but still tasted the same, which was the important part), and ended up just combining the whole lot of it together.

He was still getting the hand of a lot of the spices - cumin was surprisingly common for some reason, but anything resembling black pepper was rare. He ended up hoping for the best - a good meal was seasoning, but he wasn’t really trying to make a meal that was good in and of itself, was he? This was, at least partially, about replicating the _experience_ , right?

… okay, so he was throwing himself into this partially because he wanted to make Lance happy. He could admit to that.

He liked the guy - maybe more than liked him, if it came to that - and it was nice to make someone else happy, right?

At the end of the day, they were the only human beings that each other knew, so they had to stick together, right?

Maybe he’d try to make Allura an Altean dish, if he could figure out how. 

Food was the way to the heart, in more ways than one, and they needed to keep their spirits up, if they were going to keep defending the universe.

* * *

The pastry proved to be a bit trickier, partially because… well, pastry was always tricky. He had to jury rig his own pastry cutter (he briefly considered using his bayard, but Allura would probably have killed him), and then he’d had to _make_ the butter.

It helped that they had a cow on board. 

“How’d you figure out how to make it yourself?” Pidge sat on a free bit of counter, watching as Hunk cut butter into flour, using his improvised pastry cutter to push it all together. 

“Make what?” Hunk shoved a piece of hair behind his ear with the back of one hand, and he made a face - he’d forgotten to put an apron on, and there was flour all over his chest. 

“All of… this,” said Pidge, indicating the kitchen at large. 

“My mom taught me how to make puff pastry,” said Hunk, carefully adding the lemon juice. “She never liked the store bought stuff, said it was too greasy.” 

“So you just… learned?” Pidge was watching Hunk’s hands, as Hunk carefully kneaded. 

“Basically,” said Hunk. “When you look at it, it’s chemistry. Just edible chemistry.”

“If you say so,” said Pidge, although her expression was faintly doubtful. “I dunno. I can see the appeal, I guess, but when you’ve got all the other options, why put in all the extra effort?” 

“Because,” said Hunk, “you show someone you care with effort. Anyway, we’re both engineers. You know that you can always improve on a design. It’s the same with cooking.”

“I guess,” said Pidge. She was staring at him, but he had the sneaking suspicion she was looking at certain parts of him, but not at what he was doing. He glanced over, and saw her eyes flicking over his arms, across his shoulders, to his hands in the dough.

He tried not to blush, and instead just flipped the dough, beginning to fold it in on itself. He wasn’t really… used to being observed like that, but then again, there wasn’t much else to look at in the kitchen, was there?

“You’re a nice guy, Hunk,” said Pidge, and then she patted him on the shoulder, got up off of the counter, making her way towards her own room.

Hunk gave a mental shrug, and went back to his dough. At least he’d be able to sit it in the fridge for two hours as he did his own thing. 

… admittedly, the first ten minutes of “doing his own thing” involved him washing all of the flour and butter off of his hands, but still!

* * *

When the pastry was _finally_ done rising (and he’d rolled it out four times, as required), he wrapped the weird not-guava in it, and then stuck the whole lot of it in the oven.

He was getting used to the oven here - what was it going to be like, when he went back to Earth and had to use Earth ovens, with their Earth timers and ther Earth units of measurement? 

Hunk sighed, and he rubbed his face with both hands - they still smelled like butter, and like the flour.

The flour, which was technically made of some kind of strange alien grain, but he’d described the way Earth flour worked, and the guy he’d bought it from said it worked the same, so he could hope, right?

* * *

Hunk baked the pastries, and then stood back, looking at it all.

He’d made something like a casserole - if you crossed something like shepherd’s pie with an Italian rice ball, maybe? 

.. there wasn’t really an Earth _version_ of whatever it sounded like, but it smelled pretty good, all things considered. 

Everyone in the castle was mooching around with hopeful expressions, until Hunk set the casserole dish onto the table in the middle of the table. “Dig in,” he said. 

So they did.

* * * 

Everyone agreed the food was good - Coran specially - apparently boiling the not-beans wasn’t a common thing, but they’d come out very well, especially mixed with the caterpillar.

Lance was unusually quiet, but Hunk tried not to push, although he kept glancing over - he wanted to make sure that Lance… liked it. 

Lance’s face was very still as he ate, and he was very quiet.

Hunk didn’t want to push, because, well… food could bring on feelings, and he didn’t really want to push Lance to feel like he _had_ to express whatever it was that he was feeling, all at once. 

But still.

A guy could want some feedback, right?

But Lance ate three helpings, and then he just sat at the table, looking at his plate.

“The beans weren’t the right texture,” Lance said, as he stayed sitting there.

“Sorry about that,” said Hunk, trying not to show any affront. 

“And the cumin was a lot… stronger than I’m used to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time.”

“The pastry had a weird aftertaste as well,” said Lance.

“Sorry,” said Hunk, although he was beginning to get annoyed. It wasn’t that he was exactly expecting Lance to bow before him or any shit like that, but… really?

“But, uh… you got the balance really good,” said Lance, and his voice was almost… quiet, unexpectedly. “You did really well with that. And if I closed my eyes, it tasted a bit like my meemaw’s cooking.”

“I’m glad,” said Hunk. “I was, uh, hoping it’d help.”

“Right,” said Lance, and he stood up. Then his breath hitched, his shoulders shaking. Lance pressed his face into his hands, and he gave a muffled sob, his fingertips digging into his own temples.

… crap.

“Lance? You, uh… you alright buddy?” Hunk winced even as he said it - he sounded like every stilted sitcom dad ever. 

Lance looked at Hunk with red rimmed eyes, his nose running.

Hunk wasn’t thinking when he opened his arms up and hugged Lance, although that was probably breaking some sacred bro code or… something. He sometimes had trouble keeping track of those things, considering everyone was from a different country and had different levels of comfort with these things in the first place.

But Lance was crying into his shoulder, clutching at his shirt, and Hunk made a vaguely comforting noise, rubbing Lance’s back. 

“I know,” Hunk said. “I miss home too. I know it’s hard. I know.”

Lance sniffled… and then turned his face up, towards Hunk’s. He pressed his wet, snotty cheek against Hunk’s, and then he was kissing Hunk’s mouth with his own.

It still tasted like the almost-guava pastries, which was a bit of a shock, but maybe Hunk was just noticing things from a distance.

It sure felt like a distance.

But Lance’s tongue was in Hunk’s mouth, and Hunk’s hands were on Lance’s hips - Hunk squeezed them, and he pulled Lance closer to him. 

They were flush together, chest to chest and belly to belly, and when they pulled apart, Lance was panting into Hulk’s face.

“I really miss home,” said Lance. “And also kissing.”

“Kissing is nice,” said Hunk. “I like kissing.”

Lance snorted, and his face was still red from crying, but his erection was pressing against Hunk’s thigh.

Huh. Zero to boner in under a minute. 

Why was Hunk not surprised?

“Sorry,” said Lance, and he pulled away, looking as close to sheepish as he ever got, wiping his face on the back of an arm. “I, uh… my feelings got away from me.”

Hunk tried to ignore the disappointment that was surging in his throat. “No problem, man,” he told Lance, and he patted Lance on the shoulder.

Lance sighed, and then separated himself, just a bit. “You did a good job,” he told Hunk. “It was about as close to actual Cuban food as you could get in space. It’s closer than some Cuban food I’ve had on Earth.”

“Oh, wow, thank you,” said Hunk, and he blushed, rubbing his hands together.

Lance’s fidgeting seemed to be contagious. 

“I mean it,” said Lance. “It… it means a lot to me.”

“Just don’t expect it every time,” Hunk said. “We’re probably gonna have to go back to food goo for a while.”

“I’ll scrounge up more GAC,” Lance said. “You’ll see.”

* * *

Things kept happening - things _always_ kept happening, because that was the way that the universe worked.

They did more missions - Hunk met the most adorable little cat people, although one of them tried to eat his foot. 

Lance flirted more outrageously than usual, but Hunk could see through it, a little bit.

Homesickness could make a jerk out of anyone.

He was feeling it a bit himself, although he wasn't sure how to combat it.

Maybe he could make his dad's meatloaf, or his aunt's pecan pie, if he could figure out a way to find pecans, or to make caramel.

Was there caramel in pecan pie?

Fuck.

It had been such a long time since he'd done this, hadn't it?

He stood in the water and stared up at the water, his head full of fuzz.

He was so tired. He was tired in his bones, in his heart, in all the squishy parts of his body, and all of the rigid bits.

He put on a brave face - and usually he was just too damn _busy_ to really focus on how stressed he was - but it was still there, right under the surface.

He pressed his forehead into the cold tile, and he sighed, a long, deep sigh, puffing his bangs out of his face.

Huh.

He needed a haircut.

He sighed again, and he shook his head. He needed to not be in this funk.

He was going to go to his bed, he was going to sleep. Maybe he'd masturbate. 

The memory of Lance pressing up to him, Lance's tongue in his mouth, rose up unbidden, and he shivered, and then glared down at his dick, which was beginning to get hard.

"C'mon, not now," he said, and his voice echoed in the empty room.

... maybe he was just lonely. 

Not, like, lonely-lonely, obviously, he was surrounded by people all the time, people unlike any other people he'd ever known, but... hm. 

Maybe he needed a break. Was that a thing he could ask for? It felt like a thing that he probably needed to not ask for.

Hunk was so in his own head that he didn't even notice when someone else came into the big, echoing bathroom with him. Then again, people came and went all the time, so it wasn't too unusual, was it?

It wasn't until someone knocked on the glass of the shower stall. He jumped, nearly tripped, and then cleared up the steam.

To look... into Lance's face.

Huh.

"Can I come in?" Lance's voice was very loud in the echoing space.

"Uh, sure," said Hunk, because even awkwardness was better than the echoing on the inside of his head. 

Something was going on - something he couldn't put his finger on, except that it was something, and he was missing some kind of clue.

He liked to think he was a pretty smart guy - no, scratch that, he _knew_ he was a pretty smart guy - but he was definitely missing something. 

Lance slid in, and he was naked. 

_Well, of course he’s naked, this is a shower, why would he be clothed?_ some part of him gibbered. And it wasn’t as if he’d never seen Lance naked before.

But there were… types of naked. 

There was "we've all been in our Lions all day, let's hit the shower" naked, where there was joking on the good days and silent exhaustion on the bad days. There was "oops, didn't mean to see that" naked, which was the normal kind.

This was nudity _with intent_. 

Some of it was advertised by Lance's hard on, which... well, it sure was there. 

Hunk wasn't sure what to make of that, but he wasn't sure what to make of a lot of things. 

He knew what to do when Lance crowded against him, though - his hands on Lance's hips, as Lance's arms went around his neck, and then Lance was turning his face up to be kissed, and Hunk was leaning forward, just a bit, and he was kissing Lance.

Then he was pulling back, because... something felt hinky, as good as it was to hold another person up against him, to kiss someone.

"You don't have to do this," Hunk said. "As a thank you or whatever. You're not... like, required to make out with me or fuck me or whatever, just because I -"

"I miss people," Lance said in a rush. "Like... I mean, not that Allura and Coran and everyone else we meet _aren't_ people, because they are, but I miss people like us, y'know? People who are from Earth." He made a rueful face - he was already beginning to turn pink from the hot water. "And you're the most likable person around, and I know I've been wondering about kissing you, and let's... let's not make it weird, okay?" 

Hunk took a step back, and he crossed his arms, one eyebrow going up. "So you're kissing me because I'm the only human being who you don't feel weird about kissing?" He wasn't sure if he as disappointed or not. 

"No, it's not like that," said Lance, and he sounded frustrated. "It's more... like... urrgh." He scrubbed his face with both hands, as the water pasted his hair down. "Okay, look. So, like... Allura is pretty, but she's not human. And also super intimidating. And Shiro is... y'know, Shiro." 

Hunk nodded. He'd caught himself eyeing Shiro a few times, but, well. Shiro was gorgeous and smart and a wonderful leader and a whole bunch of other things, but approachable wasn't necessarily on that list. 

"Keith is...," Lance paused, trying to find a way to describe whatever it was that he felt for Keith, then shrugged, "himself. And Pidge is really smart, but she's like my kid sister, y'know?" 

Hunk didn't exactly feel the same way, but he could see where Lance was coming from, at least. He nodded.

"But you're just so... nice, and you're so _funny_ , and you just... you did a big thing for me, and it was... it was bigger than I thought it was." Lance looked down at his feet, which were bright red from all the hot water. "And I've been staring at your arms since we were on the same squad, because you're, like, really built, and it's been hard for me to not stare."

"... oh," said Hunk. 

He was used to being stared at - he was taller than a lot of people, and he was just... visibly bigger than everyone else. You grew up big, you got used to being big, and you learned to ignore the way people looked at you.

"I just want to... can I make you feel good, please? I don't want to make it weird. Although I've already made it weird. But I want to make it weird in a way that you'd like." 

Hunk kept looking at him, his arms still crossed.

"I want to make you feel good," Lance said again, more firmly this time. "I want to pay you back, because you did that for me, and because you take care of everyone, and someone needs to take care of you."

"That sounds like something you'd read in a romance novel," Hunk said, although his resolve was weakening. How long had it been since he'd gotten off with anything but his own hands? 

Lance shrugged, unrepentant, and then he dropped to his knees, right there in front of Hunk, and his hands were reaching out, to rest on Hunk's hips. 

Hunk blushed, and he probably should have shoved Lance away, said 'you don't need to do this' or maybe 'let's do this in a bed, this can't be good for you knees,' but instead he just... leaned back against the tile, his hands going to the top of Lance's head. 

This would be so awkward, if anyone found them. 

He could live with that.

Lance made some kind of satisfied noise, and then he was kissing the very tip of Hunk's cock - Hunk's _hard_ cock, and when had that happened, exactly? 

Hunk had been too wrapped up in, well... all of the everything that was going on, so of course he had a boner.

And then Lance's lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and the tip of Lance's tongue pressed against the very tip, and he stopped caring about _anything_ except not thrusting too far forward, because he didn't want to choke Lance. 

That would be bad.

This was not bad.

This was good.

Very good.

Even from the confines of his own head, Hunk was rolling his eyes at himself. He sounded like those "See Spot Run" books that his teachers had tried to force on him when he was a little kid. 

Lance took more of Hunk's cock into his mouth, still sucking, and Hunk's knees went weak, as he put more weight into the castle. He moaned, and then he covered his mouth with his other hand, because it would be _super_ awkward if anyone found them here.

But god, this was just... holy fuck. 

Lance pulled back, and one of his hands was wrapped around the base of Hunk's cock, while his tongue swirled along the head, the flat of it pressed against the slit. He pulled all the way off, and he looked up at Hunk, all dark eyelashes and flushed cheeks. 

"Everyone is either asleep or working on something," he told Hunk. "Nobody will notice."

"Someone is always around here doing _something_ ," said Hunk, and he laughed, breathless. "I don't want to explain to Coran that this isn't just a standard Earth greeting or anything like that."

Lance snorted, a puff of hot air across the sensitive of Hunk's cock, and Hunk's cock twitched like a tuning fork. "I think even Coran could tell that this was something else," he said.

"Well, I mean, yeah, but then we might get some other kind of lecture," said Hunk. "Maybe about the importance of not getting jizz in the drains or something."

"We all jerk off in the shower," Lance said, with the kind of self assurance that Hunk wasn't expecting. "He would have said something by now."

"... I feel like I should argue with that, but I honestly can't think of anything," said Hunk.

"I gotta say," Lance said, as he stroked Hunk again, squeezing with just enough pressure that Hunk's eyes tried to roll back, "you're the chattiest guy I've ever blown."

"You've blown a lot, then?"

"A couple," said Lance, and his tone was overly casual. "They don't call me Lover Boy Lance for nothing, y'know."

"I've, uh, I've only ever seen you hit on girls," said Hunk. 

This was an odd conversation to be having, when Lance's spit was still shiny on his dick. 

Lance shrugged. "I haven't seen any cute alien guys," he said. 

"Fair enough," Hunk said.

"So can I get back to blowing you, or do you want to know my exact Kinsey score?" 

"I didn't know you'd know what the Kinsey scale is in the first place," said Hunk, which probably wasn't the right thing to say. "Although then again, the Kinsey scale isn't - oh, _fuck_."

Lance, possibly getting sick of Hunk's external monologue, had opened his mouth and taken Hunk's cock all the way down his throat, until his nose was pressed against Hunk's belly.

Hunk groaned like he'd been shot, one fist banging on the wet tile, the other tangled in his own hair, forcing his head back. The lights - Altean crystals, of course - were practically beating down on his face, and it was enough to be almost too much. 

Almost.

Lance bobbed his head, and his throat was making the kinds of filthy noises that Hunk associated with a certain class of porno. Not that Hunk had never been blown before or anything like that! Far from it! He'd had partners of various gender permutations. Just... not since he'd ended up in space. 

And he'd never imagined Lance, of all people, would be interested in... well, this. 

The water was beating down on his head, a comfortable tempo to go with the pulsing of Lance's throat, the flickering of Lance's tongue, and Lance was moaning. The vibrations of it were going up Hunk's cock, making it twitch harder. 

Hunk got lost in the sensations - a hot, wet mouth on his cock, warm breath against his groin, slippery fingers on his hips. 

At some point, he reached down, and then he was holding Lance’s hand with one of his own, and covering his own face with the other, pressing down to keep from making noise, to keep from being overwhelmed. The pressure was building at the base of his spine, at the back of his skull, building and building like pounding on rock. 

Lance was almost _alarmingly_ good at blowjobs, and it had been to long since the last time Hunk had actually had a blowjob, and, well….

“Lance,” Hunk said, and his voice cracked. He tried again. “Lance, I’m going to… I’m close, I….”

Lance pulled off, and he jerked Hunk off, as Hunk fucked his fist, frantic and wet, and Hunk was clutching Lance’s fingers hard enough that they were probably going to start creaking, and then Hunk was coming. 

The pleasure - sweet and hot - flashed across his nerves, pulsing out of his cock, which shot wads onto Lance’s chest, splattering down, and it was a mess of sweat and spooge. Then Hunk was pulling Lance up, kissing Lance, his hand on the back of Lance’s neck, and his other hand was between the two of them, wrapping around Lance’s cock, and some of the slickness against his palm was his own come - he was jerking Lance off with _his own come_ , god, that was… wow.

Lance sobbed into Hunk’s mouth, and Lance’s come was hot and sticky across the backs of Hunk’s knuckles, down his wrist. 

“Fuck,” Lance said, right against Hunk’s lips, then, “ow. I think I’ve got tile imprints on my knees.”

“Sorry,” said Hunk.

“Don’t be,” said Lance, and he was shaking, clinging to Hunk. “Thanks for that. You didn’t have to do that.”

“C’mon,” said Hunk. “You made me come. It’s only fair.”

Lance snorted, right into Hunk’s neck, and that was ticklish, but Hunk wasn’t going to complain too hard. It was nice to hold someone else like this, nice to be able to feel another person’s heart beat up against your own. 

This probably wasn’t going to be any kind of… permanent thing or anything like that, but… still. It was something. 

Hunk cupped Lance’s cheek, his thumb against Lance’s cheekbone, and Lance looked at him, his eyelashes casting deep shadows across his face. “Thanks,” Hunk said quietly. “I needed that.”

Lance grinned at him, some of his usual self coming through. “Any time, big guy,” he said. “Well, not, like… _any_ time. But….”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Hunk, and he patted Lance on the cheek. 

* * *

A few weeks later (however long a week was in space - Hunk was having trouble keeping track of that, still) they came upon tomatoes.

Actual tomatoes.

Hunk knew tomatoes - his mother had grown them in pots on the windowsill in their kitchen, and he’d know a tomato plant with his eyes closed. 

“Guys,” he called, kneeling in front of the plants, “guys, look at this!”

Pidge ambled over, and Keith glanced in their direction, before he went back to fiddling with his bayard.

Lance was flirting with an alien woman, whose head was covered in long tentacles like hair, and Allura and Shiro were talking to another betentacled alien, this one much older and not feminine. 

“What am I looking at?” Pidge looked down at the garden that Hunk was crouched in front of, poking his fingers through whatever the space equivalent of chicken wire was. 

(There had to be a space equivalent of chicken wire - Hunk had seen space chickens, and if there were space chickens, there was space chicken wire.) 

“Tomatoes,” said Hunk, and he stood up, so that he could reach over the fence and feel one of the red fruits in his hand. “Don’t you recognize them?”

Pidge leaned further forward, and adjusted her glasses, squinting at them. “Are you _sure_ they’re not tomatoes, and not something that could poison you?”

“They’re not something that could poison me,” Hunk insisted. “They’re tomatoes. I’d know tomatoes anywhere.”

“Why would there be tomatoes _here_?” Pidge made a vast gesture, indicating the planet they were on, with its waving tentacled trees and three moons in the sky. 

“I don’t know,” said Hunk. “Maybe it’s like… what’s it called. Convergent evolution. Like how every continent has some kind of rodent, on Earth.”

Pidge didn’t look convinced. “So you’re saying that tomatoes just happened to develop the same here as they did on Earth?” 

“They might taste completely different,” Hunk said, “but they look like tomatoes, and they _feel_ like tomatoes.”

“Right,” said Pidge.

“I’m gonna get to the bottom of this mystery,” Hunk said, and then he was off to go talk to the person whose garden it was - maybe he could trade some GAC for the tomatoes, or haul water for them, or… whatever. But he wanted a tomato, right away.

* * *

So it turned out that the lady that Lance had been flirting with was the one who tended the garden, and she was happy to trade.

Hunk couldn’t actually _pronounce_ the word for “tomato” that she had, but she assured him that they were safe to eat. 

“I’m _still_ not sure this is a good idea,” said Pidge. 

“If I eat this and get poisoned and die, I’m sure there’s some kinda space medicine that can fix me,” Hunk said with more confidence than he felt. “ _And_ I won’t argue with you when you say ‘I told you so.’”

Although now he had to put his money where his mouth was.

Metaphorically speaking.

He looked down at the fruit in his hand - it sure _looked_ like a tomato. It felt like one, too - a Better Boy tomato. (His mother always made jokes about that - these were the “better boys,” so Hunk needed to shape up). It was just like the ones his mother grew, bigger than a plum tomato, smaller than the tasteless monstrosities that they used to get at the supermarket. Hunk put his face into the stem, and he could almost smell the sun in his parent’s kitchen.

A lump formed in his throat, and he cleared it, then took a bite out of the tomato. 

It was… perfect. That touch of acid with the back of the tongue sweetness, mixed with the juice and the seeds, which squirted into his mouth. The skin was firm, and the insides were wet with just enough give to be satisfying when he crushed them between his molars. His chin was wet with juice, and his cheeks may have been wet with… well, it had been a rough mission, and now they were recouping, so maybe he was sweating, or maybe he was crying, but who had to know that, right? 

He took another bite, and then he grabbed another one off of the plant, and he handed it to Pidge, who looked down at it, one eyebrow up. 

“I don’t like tomatoes,” she said. 

“I thought you said you missed your mom’s spaghetti sauce,” Hunk said, as he wiped his chin on the back of his hand. He could still taste the tomato, acid and sweetness mingling, a few pulpy seeds lingering on his tongue. 

“Yeah, but that’s spaghetti sauce. That’s not actually _raw tomatoes_. I wouldn’t want to eat a raw tomato off of a plant,” said Pidge. “I’m still not convinced that you’re not gonna drop dead or something.”

“Or something,” Hunk mimicked. “It’s a tomato, Pidge. It’s not going to _kill_ me or anything like that.”

“We’re in space, Hunk,” Pidge said. “We can’t expect things to be the same as they are on Earth.”

“Well,” said Hunk, and he turned to the lady who kept the garden, “would it be alright if I took a few of these with me?”

“You can take a plant, if you’d like,” said the lady. “Nobody around here likes them much.”

“Are they from here, originally? The planet, I mean.” Hunk watched as she crouched down, then got down on his own knees to help her carefully dig around the roots of the plant. 

He didn’t have much experience with gardening, but he could do some things, at least. 

“As far as I know, yeah,” said the lady. “My grandmother grew them - they’re traditionally used in medicine.”

“Medicine,” Hunk said thoughtfully, trying to imagine a world in which tomatoes were a _medicinal_ plant. 

“Yeah. Good for stomachs, when you don’t have enough acid,” she said.

“Huh,” said Hunk, because in a weird way, that made sense. “Thank you.”

He meant it, too. 

He was having a whole bunch of feelings, and they were all trying to come out of his mouth at once. He sighed, and he smiled at her in what he hoped was an unthreatening way.

Her tentacles all scrunched into her head, with a noise like someone crumpling a very thick piece of paper. “Thank _you_ for helping us,” she said. “I hope it brings you joy.” 

“It will,” Hunk said. “It already has.” 

* * *

“What kind of stuff did your mom put in her pasta sauce?” Hunk carefully watered his tomato plants, which were lined up by the sink in their pots.

Multiple threats had been made about what would happen, if anything happened to those plants. 

They were listened to, mainly because Hunk wasn’t known for making idle threats.

But now Hunk was getting over the hedonism of being able to just _pick a tomato off of the plant_ , and he was thinking of things he could do with them.

Pidge had been looking especially… wan lately, for lack of a better way of putting it, although Hunk couldn’t exactly put his finger on whatever it was that was bothering her. Was she on her period? Homesick? Lovesick?

“I dunno,” said Pidge. “Spices, I guess? I was never really interested in cooking.”

“Cooking is like chemistry, y’know,” said Hunk. 

“Yeah, except you can’t blow things up or make robots with it,” said Pidge. Her tone was morose.

Hunk eyed her sidelong, but she didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk about it, whatever it was. 

“I’m sure, if you made good enough food, you could turn someone _into_ a robot,” said Hunk. 

“Are you talking about putting drugs in someone’s food, so they become dependent on you and they have to do your bidding because you have the drug? Because if you do that, you’re still not necessarily making a robot -”

“That went someplace dark,” Hunk interrupted. “I was just talking about food that was so good that it would make someone do your bidding.”

“They wouldn’t necessarily be a robot in that case,” Pidge said. “They’d be a minion.”

“So what differentiates a robot from a minion?” 

“Well, for one, you make a robot yourself,” said Pidge.

“Not necessarily,” said Hunk. “All of those Galra-bots weren’t actually made by the individual Galra who are commanding them, but they’re still robots.” 

“They’re still built by the Galra,” said Pidge. She seemed to be perking up, at least - getting into an argument usually did that for her. “But if you work on it, it is, in some way, yours.”

“I guess that all the food that I make is mine, huh?” 

“I guess so, yeah, using that logic,” Pidge said slowly. “But once you’ve given it to us, it’s then our stuff, since you gave it to us.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna reach my arm down your stomach and demand you give me the food back,” Hunk pointed out. “Among other things… ew.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Well, all food becomes -” Pidge started.

“I know what all food _becomes_ ,” Hunk interrupted, “but I’m not here for that.” 

“I guess,” PIdge said, but she looked doubtful. 

“You like my cooking better than the food goo,” Hunk pointed out, as he put the tomatoes into a bowl, then grabbed for the pepper.

“What are you making, anyway?” Pidge rested her elbows on her thighs, watching him over her glasses.

“It’s salsa, without any onions or peppers or… it’s tomatoes and salt,” Hunk said, giving up halfway through his explanation. 

“Do you really think you could make my mom’s spaghetti sauce?” Pidge’s voice had gone quiet.

“Sure,” said Hunk, “if you can figure out what goes into it, I could probably jury rig something. I’m starting to get the feel of all the different spices I can find around here.”

“Right,” said Pidge. “Let me think about it.” 

“Wasn’t planning to keep you from thinking about it,” Hunk said.

Pidge shot him a Look. 

Hunk intentionally put on his sunniest expression, just to fuck with her. 

She snorted and rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the affection on her face.

* * *

Pidge was undescriptive about her mother’s spaghetti sauce, because of course she was. For a person who could go head to head with him when it came to science, she was _horrible_ at describing flavors - “It tasted like spaghetti sauce, okay? Maybe it had salt?” - which was just… not helpful.

Very much not helpful.

He finally - _finally_ \- managed to find out that there wasn’t any meat in the sauce, which was a start, at least. It also had “vegetables - maybe peppers?” which he could work with. 

His tomato plants flourished - he pampered them like royalty, so they had _better_ have been flourishing. 

But hey - tomatoes. There were _so many_ things that he could do with tomatoes.

* * *

Tracking down spices that would possibly go in Italian food was a pain in the ass. 

The thing that tasted like basil was, inexplicably, a type of seaweed, found in a sea of purple methane. 

Oregano (or the thing that was _like_ oregano, at any rate) came from... well, Hunk wasn't going into the details of where that came from. He ended up gathering all the various bits and pieces of things that he needed, to make a proper pasta sauce.

At least, he assumed it was a proper pasta sauce, as made by Pidge's mother.

Pidge was still withdrawn, although Hunk assumed at least some of it was homesickness. They were all feeling it - the strain of being away from home, surrounded by strangers. 

Very nice strangers to be sure, and all of the people in the Castle of the Lions were very much their people, but... still.

Hunk did his best to keep people's spirits up, and to do the same for himself. Maybe he was just tired.

He and Lance had a few more kisses, here and there, but Lance was very clearly more interested in pursuing... well, everyone. 

Hunk didn't take it too personally - Lance seemed like a guy who was interested in the chase more than anything else. Hunk couldn't really judge Lance for that, even if it wasn't really a philosophy that he got.

Hunk just put his head down and kept going - not that it was exactly much of a trial, when it came down to it. He was getting a chance to explore space! How many people had _that_ as an option?

* * * 

Hunk nearly had a heart attack when Pidge tapped him on the shoulder one evening, after a particularly intense mission. His nerves were a bit more... frayed than usual, and he nearly dropped his tomato plants.

"Yeesh," said Pidge, when the echoes had died down and he was looking at her, one hand over his chest, panting, "are you okay?"

"I'm a little jumpy," Hunk said, and he tried not to sound too annoyed. It wasn't Pidge's fault that she was so small and so quiet, when she wanted to be. 

"Evidently," said Pidge. "So what's with all those jars of things you've got squirreled away in the cupboard?"

"Oh, y'know," said Hunk. "I'm just... planning something."

"What kind of something?" Pidge sat on the counter, resting her elbows on her thighs and her chin on her hands. She was looking at him over the rim of her glasses, the way she always did when she was having some kind of deep thought and wasn't sure how to put it into words yet.

"A surprise something," he said, and he poked her in the side.

She batted his hand away absently. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," said Hunk, as he carefully watered along the roots of his tomatoes. 

"How do you... like, what's a sign that you've got a crush on someone?" She rubbed the back of her neck, and she looked embarrassed. 

The castle was quiet - Coran was doing something or other with the Teleduv, singing an odd, warbling song in Altaean. Everyone else was either sleeping or pursuing their own interests (so probably sleeping). 

Truth be told, Hunk was a bit surprised that Pidge was mooching around the kitchen with him. Not that she didn't appreciate food - she very much appreciated food - but she was more of a person who would eat it when it was there, versus watching every step of the process. 

"Do you have a crush on someone?" Hunk turned around, so that he was leaning against the counter, one hand on the tomato plant's pot. 

"I... don't know," Pidge said, and she rubbed her face with both hands. "I don't think that they'd be interested in me anyway." 

"No way to know unless you check," Hunk said, his tone cheerful. "Why do you think you've got a crush on this person?"

"I keep thinking about them," said Pidge. "Like... when I'm around them, I just want to be _more_ around them, and I want to, like...." Pidge trailed off.

"Mm?" Hunk made a vague "go on" gesture with one hand. 

"I don't _know_ what I want," Pidge said finally, after almost a minute of silence. "I want... I don't know if I want, like... physical stuff, or if I just admire them, or anything like that. I've never been... interested in someone like that before, which I know is weird -"

"Everyone develops into that stuff at different rates," Hunk interrupted. "There's no "right" or "wrong," as far as I'm concerned."

Pidge shot him a smile. "Thanks," she said, and she sighed. "I'm sorry, I feel like I'm being awkward."

Hunk shrugged, and he patted her on the knee, his hand still damp from watering his tomatoes. "I'm glad to help," he told her. "If I can do anything to help, just tell me, okay?"

"You're a really nice guy, y'know that, Hunk?" Pidge watched him fiddle with the plants some more, checking their leaves for any dry spots or mites.

"I do my best," Hunk demurred.

"Can I ask another question?" Pidge sounded faintly nervous. 

"You usually just ask me questions, without asking me if you can ask 'em first," said Hunk. "What's got you so timid?"

"I'm not being timid," Pidge shot back. "I just don't want to come off as a jerk, that's all."

"Fair enough," said Hunk. "I don't think you're a jerk on purpose."

"Thanks," Pidge said, her voice flat. "That was really helpful."

"I do my best," said Hunk, and he gave her a thumbs up and a big shit eating grin, more to make her laugh than out of any real sarcasm. 

Pidge did indeed cackle, and then she glanced around, hopping off of the counter so she could crowd closer to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he obediently leaned down, so that she could speak in his ear. "Are you, uh... are you gay? Because I saw you and Lance... y'know."

She sounded embarrassed, and Hunk cleared his throat, and stood up.

"No," Hunk said. "No, uh, I'm... no. I don't... I'm pretty open. I like... I like people. When did you see me and Lance?"

"You guys were making out in the hallway," Pidge said. "I mean, there's nothing... wrong with being gay or anything like that, and I know that some people are into multiple genders, I just wasn't expecting it from _Lance_ , and you've never really given an indication in any direction -"

"I like people," Hunk said, to stem the tide of babble. "I'm not really picky about, like, what kind of genitals or whatever people have. I just like people."

"Right," said Pidge, and she sighed again. "So you think I should tell this person I have a crush on them?"

"Why do you think they don't like you?"

"Because most people just see me as a little kid," said Pidge.

"I mean," said Hunk, although he didn't actually say the rest of what he was going to say, because Pidge was glaring at him. 

"You mean?" She raised an eyebrow.

"You're... short," Hunk said, "and you are, uh... kinda young."

"I'm nearly sixteen!" Pidge was indignant. 

"You are, and that's great," Hunk said quickly. 

"You're only two years older than me," Pidge pointed out. 

"You're right," Hunk agreed. 

"... and he's ten years older than me," Pidge said, and then she sighed, a long, drawn out sigh, and she seemed to just... slump against the counter, covering her face again.

"You have a crush on Shiro," Hunk said, as his brain did the math quickly.

Pidge looked around frantically, as if expecting someone to show up and laugh at her, right then and there. "Not so loud," she hissed.

"There's nobody to hear us but the tomato plants," Hunk pointed out, indicating his green and red buddies.

"Still," Pidge said. She looked more flustered than he'd ever seen her. 

It was taking effort not to start snickering, because... well.

"Your secret is safe with me," Hunk promised her. "I won't tell anyone."

"Am I... am I obvious?" She licked her lips.

"It's not obvious," he promised. "I just did some math in my head."

"Maybe I just had a crush on Allura," Pidge said. 

"She's not just ten years older than you are," Hunk told her. 

"... she is, like, chronologically," Pidge said, her tone defensive. "She may technically be, like, ten thousand years old, but she was asleep for almost all of it." 

“Fair point,” said Hunk. “So you’ve got a crush on Shiro.”

“I’ve got a crush on Shiro,” Pidge echoed, and she sighed. “I feel dumb about it.”

“Why?” Hunk finally let go of his tomatoes, after pausing to put his face in the leaves, smelling the familiar greenness, which felt like standing in his mother’s kitchen again. 

“Because… he’d never be interested in _me_ ,” Pidge said, in a “no, duh” tone of voice.

“Why not?” Hunk looked over at her, one eyebrow up.

“Because, y’know,” Pidge said, and now she was blushing. She looked downright angry. “I’m not… y’know, girly. Even when I was girly, I wasn’t, like… good at it.”

“I’m sure you were good at it,” Hunk said in a soothing tone of voice. “I mean, there’s more than one way to be a girl. Or a guy. Or… whatever.”

“Yeah, but… I’m not doing it _right_ ,” Pidge said, and she sounded genuinely sad. “I know that there are ways of doing this stuff right - I’ve watched some videos I’ve managed to stream from Earth, but none of them really made sense, even when I tried.”

“You could try talking to Allura,” Hunk suggested, although he was a bit at a loss as well. “I know a little bit about makeup, and, well, the way to a man’s heart is his stomach -”

“No, it’s through the ribs,” Pidge said, and then she grinned at Hunk. 

At least he’d cheered her up.

“Still,” said Hunk, “if you want to learn how to cook, for seduction purposes or whatever, I’ll be glad to help. Or other feminine stuff. I had a lot of female friends. Although personally, I think if you, uh… if you want someone to be interested in you, you should just present as yourself, however that might be.”

“What about the fact that he’s so much older than me?” Pidge was shooting Hunk a suspicious look. “You’re not gonna, like… try to dissuade me or whatever? Or tell me it’s bad for the team cohesion?”

Hunk shrugged, uncomfortable. “I mean,” he said, “we’re, like, the only humans around here. I’m not gonna judge. I dunno if he’d actually want to take you up on whatever it is you’re offering, but if you want to experiment with your appearance, or whatever, I’d be willing to help you.”

“I might take you up on that,” Pidge said, her tone thoughtful.

“It’s why I offered it,” Hunk told her. 

“Thanks,” she said, and then she stood up and hugged him, which was a bit of a shock, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

He hugged her back, her face pressed into his chest, her arms squeezing around his middle. 

* * *

“You’re holding that knife wrong,” Hunk told Pidge, about a month later. 

The two of them were alone in the kitchen once again, and Pidge was clumsily chopping up a space potato.

“What am I doing wrong?” She sounded frustrated. 

“You’re holding the knife wrong,” Hunk repeated.

“That’s how I hold it when I’m fighting,” Pidge pointed out, and she sounded frustrated.

“That may be true,” Hunk said, “but this isn’t stabbing someone. This is chopping up a… space potato.” He came up behind her, his hand going over hers, moving her fingers, “but that’s not how you hold a knife when you’re chopping.” His arms were bracketing hers, and his chest was pressed into her back, as he showed her just how to hold the knife, with her thumb and index finger controlling the blade, the rest of her fingers on the handle. 

She was shifting against him, and he was trying not to think about that too much, because if he wasn’t careful he’d get an erection, and this was _not_ the time or the place for that kinda thing. He could smell her shampoo, and it was the same shampoo that they all used, but it still made his heart beat a little faster.

Lance and Keith had been… well, Hunk wasn’t sure, except that Lance wasn’t coming to visit him in the middle of the night anymore. Hunk was a little sad about it, but… eh. He could live with it.

“Why is it any different?” Pidge still sounded faintly petulant, but she was letting Hunk guide her hands. She had very small hands, and they were warm under Hunk’s own. 

God, he had to not sweat so much.

“Well,” Hunk said, and he was angling his hips away from her, so that his erection wasn’t pressing against her lower back, “if you wanna get philosophical, when you make food, you should be doing it with love. You’re taking something, and you’re turning it into something for someone else. You’re giving them something to keep them alive, or to make them happy. When you’re killing someone with a knife… well, you’re trying to kill someone with a knife. You kinda just wanna get it _done_ , y’know?”

“What’s the practical answer?” Pidge sounded faintly bored, but she was still squirming, and then… she was brushing against his boner.

Oh god.

If he angled his hips anymore, she’d notice. Maybe if he just tried to ignore it? 

“When you’re chopping something, you want to have control of the whole blade as it goes in a repetitive motion,” said Hunk. 

Pidge seemed to be rocking faintly on the balls of her feet, and it was enough to press herself against his hard on, and that was _not_ helping things. He was starting to sweat, and he was biting his lip, blushing.

He needed to not be so damn horny. This was not the time. 

“Versus stabbing?”

“With stabbing,” Hunk said, as this all took on the surreal cast of a particularly weird nightmare, “as far as I can tell, you try to vary it up, so your opponent can’t tell what it is that you’re doing.”

“Right,” said Pidge. “That makes sense.”

Hunk kept guiding her hand, as two two of them chopped up the space potato carefully. 

“Am I doing okay?” Pidge sounded nervous.

“You’re doing great,” Hunk said, and his voice was coming from a long way off. His cock was already starting to leak in his boxers, right up against his thigh, and he was going to have a wet spot. Oh god. 

“Okay, good,” said Pidge.

She didn’t tell him to move - instead, she leaned back against him, and she let go of the knife, leaning back against him, the crown of her head against his collarbone. “You’re really tall,” she told him. 

“So I’ve been told,” Hunk said. He should have let go of her, walked away, gone to the nearest bathroom and jerked himself off. 

Instead, he just… kept his hand on top of hers.

If she wanted him off, she’d push him away - he knew that she could more than stand up for herself, or voice her discomfort. 

“I… Hunk, can I ask another personal question?” Her voice was very quiet.

Hunk made to withdraw his various body parts, but she grabbed his wrist, keeping him in place. 

“What’s up?” His throat was very dry.

“Have you ever… I mean, have you ever… had sex with someone?” She sounded nervous. 

This wasn’t a conversation that he wanted to have while he was pressed up against her with a boner. It just felt… weird. He disentangled himself, gently, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to ignore the way his cock was throbbing against his thigh, trying to ignore how close his hand was to his dick. “I have,” he told her.

“What was it like?” She looked at him, all wide eyes, and it tugged on his heartstrings. 

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to take her back to Earth, where she could have other friends to ask these questions to, and not just… well, him.

“It was… it was nice,” Hunk said slowly. “I’ve done it a few times, with a few different people. It’s… it depends on the person, and how you do it, and a whole bunch of other stuff.”

“I keep hearing about, like, people who would be willing to give up _everything_ for good sex,” said Pidge. “I never got that.”

“It’s… good sex can be good,” said Hunk. _I am so dead if anyone walks in on us_ , flashed through his head. “It can be very good,” he continued, “but it’s like… it’s like food. It’s good, but you shouldn’t spend all of your time in pursuit of it, or it’ll bite you in the ass.”

“I thought that was a specific sex move,” Pidge said, her voice deadpan, her face completely blank.

Hunk snickered, and some of the tension broke. Although he still had a hard on. He’d have to do something about that.

“I mean, it can be,” said Hunk, and he waggled his eyebrows at her, more to make her laugh than for any other reason. 

“I want… I mean….” Pidge looked down at her feet, and then she looked up at him, her expression firm. “How did you know you were ready to have sex?”

Hunk shrugged. “It just kinda… happened. We were… messing around, and she brought a condom, so I thought hey, why not, so we… did, and then we… well, did.”

“Right,” said Pidge. “And you didn’t feel weird afterwards?”

“I mean,” said Hunk, “it was a new experience, if that’s what you mean? And it had… emotional significance to me. But I’m glad that I did it the way I did.”

“Right,” said Pidge. “Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Hunk rubbed the back of his neck, as he counted to ten in Altaen. 

Pidge shrugged. “This feels like it’s… something I shouldn’t be asking. I dunno.”

“I don’t think so,” said Hunk. “If it makes you feel any better, I mean. It’s… you’re my friend. God knows I’ve asked you enough questions about random stuff since we got here. If I know more about something than you do, it makes sense that you’d ask me.”

“Right,” said Pidge. “That makes sense.”

“You wanna go back to chopping?” Hunk indicated the chopping board, with its space potatoes, and two precious tomatoes, still untouched. 

“Right,” said Pidge. “Thanks for showing me, too.” She smiled at him. 

He smiled back - how could he not?

* * *

Hunk finally - _finally_ \- managed to get the pasta sauce right. 

It was garlic powder that had caused him the most trouble it turned out. He found a particular kind of beetle that, when crushed, produced a pungent scent that was identical to garlic powder (versus garlic - he’d gotten into a legitimate argument with _Keith_ of all people about that), but now he had all the makings.

So he made pasta sauce - he boiled and shocked his precious tomatoes, chopped them, added all the… well, everything, cooked it long and slow. 

He had figured out (through trial and error), how to make pasta with the weird flour that he’d gotten to make the pastries, and he had even jury rigged something like a pasta maker.

By the time it was all done, it was a spaghetti dinner that… well, an Italian chef would probably wept from how not-right it was, but everyone at the Castle of Lions dug in.

Pidge at three helpings, and then flopped on the table, looking content.

Hunk eyed her, his eyes on her face. “So, uh, how did I do?” He sounded nervous. 

“It’s better than my mom’s,” said Pidge, “but my mom isn’t a very good cook.” Then she threw her head back and laughed - a loud, hearty laugh.

Whatever anxieties had been building up in the back of Hunks’ chest began to calm down. “Right,” he said. “Fair enough. I hope you folks enjoyed that, because that’s the last of the tomatoes for a while.”

“Are your plants ill?” Allura rested her elbows on the table, her expression thoughtful. She didn’t seem to know if she liked tomatoes or not, and kept coming back to try again. 

“No, but they can only make so many at once,” said Hunk. “But they’ll be okay.”

“If you’re sure,” Allura said.

“I am,” Hunk said firmly. 

“You’re a good guy, Hunk,” said Pidge. Her expression was thoughtful. 

“I do my best,” Hunk said, but he was grinning.

* * *

Hunk lay in his room, staring up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. His stomach was full, and his thoughts were slow. 

He missed home, missed Earth, missed… pizza. Maybe he needed to try to make pizza next - how would he make pizza? He had tomatoes again - he’d need to plant new plants, but after he’d done that, when they grew up and gave him more tomatoes, he’d be able to store some sauce, since this time he’d been able to plan it a bit better and not just gorge. 

If he closed his eyes, he was standing in front of his mother’s sink, the tomato plants lined up, the tomatoes ripening. 

They had the cow - he could probably figure out how to make cheese, he just needed some rennet, or some equivalent of it somewhere. There had to be alien space cheese, right? He’d have to ask Allura about it at some point.

He was going over the cheesemaking process, as he remembered it, when there was a knock on his door, then the familiar slide as it opened.

Hunk sat up on his elbows, looking over, to find… Pidge, looking nervous but resolute.

“Hi,” he said. “What’s up?”

She rubbed the back of her neck, and she just… looked at him, biting her lip. She looked genuinely anxious, which was rare for her. 

“What you did today was… really nice,” she said, “and it made me think about some stuff.” She stepped in, weaving around the piles of clothes, and then she flopped onto the bed next to him, so that they were more or less hip to hip. “So, uh… I was thinking.”

“Mmm?” Hunk lifted his arm, as she wriggled under it, her head on his chest. He wasn’t sure what to do with this - could he wrap an arm around her? Or would that be weird?

“All the effort you put in, i mean,” Pidge said, and then her leg was wrapping around his leg. 

This was… weird. She wasn’t usually this cuddly. 

“Well, I know you’ve been homesick,” Hunk said. “We all have been. And… y’know, it’s… it’s nice to have a project.”

“You mean other than trying to learn to pilot a giant flying lion, form into a giant robot, and fight the forces of an encroaching empire that wants to kill us all?” Her chest was pressed against his - her breasts were small against his own chest, but they were very soft. 

“It’s nice to have a project that’s not super high stakes,” Hunk corrected, and Pidge snickered into his neck, ticklish. 

“Right,” Pidge said. “So it got me thinking….”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m ready to have sex,” she said, and her tone was earnest.

Hunk sat up very quickly, and nearly fell out of the bunk. “ _What_?” 

“You’re the nicest guy I know,” Pidge said, and she sat up as well. “And I know… y’know, that my first time is gonna be awkward, and I don’t want to be super awkward. And I figured if I was gonna do it, I’d wanna do it with someone who I trusted. You’re a good guy. And… I know you’re into me, you had an erection when you were showing me how to chop up that space potato.”

Hunk flushed, rubbing the back of his neck with one big hand. His heart was pounding very loudly in his chest. 

“Pidge,” he said, “are you sure you’re old enough -”

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” Her question was sharp, quick.

“I was thirteen,” Hunk admitted, “but -”

“But what?” Pidge sat up completely, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. She looked _furious_. “I risk my life every time I go out on a mission. You’re saying that you trust me to not blow up the castle, or to not get killed when I’m fighting with the Galra, but not to have sex?”

When she put it like that, he didn’t have a leg to stand on, did he?

“Or… do you not want to have sex with me?” She looked a bit upset, but seemed to be soldiering on. “If you don’t think I’m attractive -”

“I think you’re attractive, Pidge,” Hunk said. “I do. I just….” He gave a long, drawn out sigh, and he scrubbed his face with both hands. 

“You just?”

“This is new territory for me,” said Hunk. “The last time I slept with a virgin, I was one. And I don’t want to hurt you, since I’m so much… bigger than you, and....”

“I’m not going to break,” Pidge said. “And I’m not afraid.” She shot him a look that broke his heart, just a little bit. “I trust you.”

“Right,” said Hunk, and the last of his resolve crumbled. “Okay. If you want to… if you want to have sex with me, I’ll do it. But,” he added, when he saw her face light up, “I’ve got rules.”

“Rules,” she repeated. 

“I’m not going to… I don’t want to get you pregnant,” Hunk said. 

"I don't want that either," said Pidge. 

She was wearing her pajamas - a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. Hunk himself was in the same get up, albeit in shades of yellow, versus shades of green.

Sometimes, the ways they were color coded could be a bit... weird, although he couldn't complain too hard. At least yellow suited him.

"I don't... you don't have to do this," Hunk said, and he was aware just how awkward he sounded, because, well... how could he not? She wasn't even that younger than him, when it came down to it. 

"I know I don't have to do this," Pidge said, and now she sounded testy. "But I _want_ to do this. So I am."

"Right, right, of course," Hunk said quickly. "So... like, when you say "this," what do you mean, exactly?" 

"I'd... like you to do sexual stuff with me," Pidge said, and now she was blushing - he could tell, even in the low light. 

"Any particular... kind of sexual stuff?" Hunk was blushing as well - at least the both of them were embarrassed together? That was something like camaraderie, if you squinted and tilted your head. 

"I don't... I mean, I did some research," Pidge said, and Hunk snickered, because of course she had. "The Castle's library has a pretty extensive erotica collection," she said.

"Versus porn?" 

She shrugged. "I have yet to find an actual distinction," she said, "other than the standard "I'll know it when I see it" one."

"Right," said Hunk. "So... like, do you have any idea what you're interested in?"

"I'd be curious about, um... I mean, if you'd like to touch me," said Pidge, and oh _wow_ , but this was awkward. 

"If you'd like me to," Hunk said, and there was so much... earnestness in his tone that even he winced. "But," he added quickly, "if, uh... if there's anything you don't want to do, that's okay too."

"Could you... maybe not be on top of me?" Pidge was fiddling with her hands, and she looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, just... the idea of it feels super claustrophobic."

"I can stay in this exact position, if you want me to," Hunk promised, indicating his current recumbent state. 

"I don't think I want to, uh... do tongue kissing either."

"Do you not want tongues in general?"

"No, just not in my mouth."

"Right."

Pidge cleared her throat, and then she reached out, resting one small hand on Hunk's chest. It was very warm, even through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

Hunk covered her hand with his won, and he squeezed it, passing his thumb over the tips of her fingers. They were calloused, from all of the fighting, from her repairs. 

Her hand moved up, to his face, and he sighed, kissing her palm.

She froze, then sighed as well, her thumb passing over his cheekbone. "You have a nice face," she said, her voice quiet.

"Thanks," Hunk said. "I grew it myself."

Pidge snickered.

* * * 

The two of them... went with the flow.

At some point, both of them lost their shirts - Pidge kept running her hands up and down his chest, seemingly fascinated by the mix of muscle and fat. Her fingers were ticklish, and it took effort not to squirm too much, or to laugh.

Her skin glowed in the dim light - she was very pale, and breaking out in goosebumps. Her breasts were small - small enough that they fit in the palm of his hand, with room left over. She sighed, when he palmed her breast, but she pressed it into his hand. She shuddered when his thumb passed over her nipple, throwing her head back and panting up at the ceiling. 

"Can I... would you like me to use my mouth? On your... chest, I mean." This was all so awkward, fumbling. It was like his first time, all over again. It seemed that a first time would never be too smooth, no matter how much experience the other party.

... not that Hunk was exactly Mister Experienced, when you got down to it, but some was still more than none. 

"Yeah," said Pidge. "Sure. If you... want."

"Okay," said Hunk. "New rule. If I offer it, I want it. Okay?"

Pidge laughed, and some of the tension drained out of her face. "You're right," she said, and she made a face. "I don't know why I'm so anxious about all of this."

"This stuff is... important," Hunk said, awkward all over again. "It may not be the most important thing in your life or whatever, but it's still doing something new and intimate." 

"Right," said Pidge. "I think you should sit up, if you want to use your mouth."

"You're right," said Hunk, "Just... hold on a sec." There was some wriggling, and then he was sitting, his back propped up by the cold wall. 

Pidge pressed closer to him, until she was straddling him, and they were chest to chest, her small breasts pressed against his chest, his chest hair scraping across her nipples. She sighed, and she leaned back, her hands on his thighs for balance. Her legs were spread wide, her thighs against his sides. 

Hunk leaned down, and he put his hands on her back to keep her balance. He kissed her collarbone, an awkward, dry kiss, and then he moved a little lower, to the top of her breath. He sucked it into his mouth, then went lower, until he was breathing on her nipple. 

She squirmed, and her hands were in his hair, tugging on his headband. Then she sighed, as he kissed the tip of her nipple, before taking it into his mouth. 

Her skin was soft against his tongue, and her shoulder blades were hard and bony under his palms. Most of her was bony, honestly - Pidge was all angles and points. Her fingernails bit into his scalp when he swirled his tongue around her nipple, and then she cried out, some quiet little gasp. 

Hunk grunted, as her heels dug into his back, and then he switched breasts, running his fingers up and down her back as she thrashed against him. 

“You’re… so… your mouth,” Pidge mumbled, and she tugged on his hair, then pressed her forehead against his. Both of their hair was damp with sweat. 

“I’m so my mouth?” Hunk’s tone was teasing, although it was hard to keep it lighthearted, when she kept shifting around on his dick like that. It was getting hard to think. 

She rolled her eyes, and she ran her hands across his chest, which made him shiver, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. Her pale hands wee stark against his dark skin. She was biting her lip, and she looked nervous. “Um.”

“What’s up?” He held her hip in his hand - she was small enough that he could cup his whole hand around her hip. 

“Could I… I’ve never, like, seen a penis before. Could I see yours?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Hunk. “Just scoot back, so I can get my pants down.”

Pidge’s hands hovered over his waistband, and he looked down at them, then covered them with his own, squeezing them. 

“You can touch me,” he told her. “I promise.”

“Right,” she said, and she was blushing. “Sorry. I’m just kinda getting used to this.”

“C’mon,” said Hunk. “It’s still you and me. We don’t need to worry about it too much, okay?” He even believed himself, for the most part. 

“Right,” said Pidge, and her hand came between them, to feel along the length of his shaft through his pajama pants.

He grunted again, and he pushed his hips forward, into her hand. 

“It’s warmer than I thought it’d be,” said Pidge, and then she was pushing down the waistband of his pajama pants. 

His cock sprang up, slapping him in the belly, and he blushed. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m, uh….”

“It’s fine,” said Pidge, and then she was wrapping her hand around it. “It’s… wet.”

“Yeah, that happens,” said Hunk. 

“Right,” said Pidge. “I did some research, but… it’s warmer than I thought. And harder.” She gave him an experimental squeeze, and he moaned, his head falling back, hitting the wall behind him with a dull thud. 

“That’s, uh… that’s a th-thing that happens,” Hunk said, and then he gasped. 

Pidge was rubbing the head with the palm of her hand, and then she was stroking him, from the base to the head. She was pushing his foreskin back, which was a bit uncomfortable, but then she was stroking along the head of his cock with the very tips of her fingers. 

“I… so you think we shouldn’t have traditional sex until we’ve got protection?” Her voice had some kind of tone, but Hunk couldn’t tell - not when she was still holding him loosely in her fist, occasionally squeezing him. 

“Basically,” Hunk said, and his voice cracked. “But there are plenty of other things that w-w-we can do, if you want to.”

“Right,” said Pidge, and now she sounded even more embarrassed. “There was, um, this… this thing, I saw it in a video. Could we try that?” 

“Sure,” said Hunk, then, “as long as it’s not, like, painful or anything like that,” because for all he knew Pidge was watching freaky BDSM porn and was about to bring out the thumbscrews or whatever. 

“No, no,” said Pidge, and then she was getting off of him, kicking her pajam pants off, then her panties. 

She was naked now, and he could see the curly hair on her vulva - it was darker than the hair on her head. She was visibly aroused, her wetness reflecting the little bits of light back at Hunk. 

Hunk’s cock twitched, and Pidge made a surprised noise. 

“I didn’t know it did that,” she said. 

“Yeah,” said Hunk, and then he concentrated, making his cock move again, intentionally this time. “Look, he’s waving at you!”

Pidge gave a nasal cackle, and things were normal again, somehow. It wasn't some fraught, complicated thing - it was just Hunk and Pidge, messing around like always. She straddled Hunk, and her wet slit glided across his shaft, and suddenly it _was_ something again, but it was… it was some kind of something.

He was having trouble thinking. 

“You can’t… I mean, we shouldn’t….”

“I’m not going to put it in me,” Pidge said carefully, and she was reaching down between their bodies, pressing the head of his cock against her clit and rolling her hips, rubbing herself along the length of him. “Just… like this.”

“Oh,” Hunk said, more or less following. Her bony knees were digging into his sides, and her hips flexed every time she moved forward, her head lolling back. 

He wanted to kiss her mouth. 

He settled for mouthing along her shoulder, then lower, to her nipple again. Her interior muscles all clenched at that - he could feel the change, as internal muscles shifted. 

It was all a mess at that point, a mess of sweat and slick and pre-come, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, his back. He was going to be a bruised up mess by the time all of this was over. 

She was getting wetter, as if that was possible - the glide was becoming easier, and her clit was hard up against him. She was hunching her hips forward now, and she was beginning to pant, her breath hot and misty against his face. 

They were nose to nose now, and he was trying not to thrust, trying not to be anything but accommodating. He didn’t even want to roll her over and fuck her, or beg her to ride him. He wanted to stay like this, the two of them sharing the intense intimacy that was making his head spin. 

His skin was covered in goosebumps, and the pleasure seemed to be washing over him, wave after wave after wave. It was hard to breathe, as the pressure kept building at the base of his spine and the pit of his gut. He moaned, and she blinked at him. “S-s-sorry,” he said, sheepish.

“Don’t be,” she said, and then she was biting her lip again. “Could we….”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want you to come in me or anything like that,” she said slowly, “but could you… I just want to see what it feels like. Inside. You could just put it in, then take it out.”

Hunk leaned back against the wall, his eyes squeezing shut. “Are you… if you want something in you, I can… I can use my fingers,” he told her. 

“I want to feel your penis in me,” she said earnestly, and then she made a face, no doubt realizing how absurd she sounded. 

“I can… I can put it in, to see what it feels like,” Hunk said, aware that he sounded like every porno ever. “But I shouldn’t, uh… shouldn’t, y’know, do anything, once I’m in.”

“Right,” said Pidge. She was getting up on her knees, although she was still rocking her hips, pressing his dick between her labia. The blunt head of his cock was pressing up against her entrance, and the her interior muscles seemed to be trying to draw him in. 

“Pidge,” Hunk said thickly, “if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

“Right,” she said, and then she just… sat on him.

No subtlety, no artifice, nothing like that. She just took his whole cock inside of her, and then she sat there, her thighs like marble, shaking around him. Her face stayed the same, only crinkling around the eyes a little bit when he was fully seated inside of her. 

Hunk’s cock flexed inside of her, and he was shaking as well, as he panted, open mouthed. “Fuck,” he said, and his voice was rough.

“You’re big,” she said quietly. She licked her lips, the tip of her pink tongue tracing out the outline of her lips. 

“Well, yeah,” said Hunk, because what else was he going to say?

“I want…,” Pidge began, and she rose up onto his cock, almost all the way off of him, before sinking down again. She was wearing a look of intense concentration - the same look she got when she was working on an especially difficult technical problem, or when she was elbow deep in the guts of some robot and heard a spark. 

Oh _god_ , he wouldn’t last if she did that. 

He pulled out of her, and she gasped, and then let out a noise that he would have called a whine, if it was anyone other than Pidge doing it. “I’m close,” he said, “please, Pidge, I’m… I’m really close.”

“Are you?”

She straddled him again, pressing the head of his cock against her clit, and she was grinding faster this time, and he looked up at her face, determined and pink. She was biting her lower lip, and her glasses were a smudged, sticky mess. 

“Yeah,” Hunk said. “You’re… very pretty.” 

That was mostly true.

Pidge snorted. “Don’t go mushy on me now,” she told him, doing another hip shimmy, and that was it. That was what sent him over the edge- that little hip shimmy, and the memory of her deep concentration face, as she had squeezed around his cock. 

He sobbed, and the pressure that had been building in his gut just… broke, as if it had been snapped over his knee. His hips stuttered forward as his cock spurted thick, hot come across his stomach. 

“Oh,” Pidge said, and she stopped her grinding, just resting her weight on him. “I can… it’s pulsing.”

“It… it does that,” Hunk said thickly, as he collapsed back the bed, still panting. 

“Was it good?” Now she sounded unsure.

“It was really, really good,” he assured her. “Why don’t… why don’t you sit on my face?” He’d never done that before, admittedly, but he’d seen it done. He’d eaten pussy before, and this was basically eating pussy, just from a new angle. 

“Won’t you suffocate if I do that?”

“You’re not big enough,” he said. “To suffocate me, I mean.”

“Well,” said Pidge, “if… if you’re sure.” She ground her hips against his spent cock, and he winced, but he scooted back, so that he was flat on his back. 

Hunk put his hands on her hips, rubbing little circles on her hips, and she sighed, resting on his sternum. 

She looked down again, and then she let him guide her, so that she was hovering over his face. “Are you _sure_?”

“I’m sure,” he said, and she shivered, as his breath ruffled her pubic hair, warmth across new places. 

“Okay,” she said, and one of her hands was resting on his hair, where it would no doubt tangle and yank when she was getting close.

He paused to take a deep breath, and really relish the scent of her - it was new, and it was old, at the same time. His cock, which still hadn’t gone entirely soft, gave a little twitch, and he groaned. Then he was guiding her onto his mouth, his hands still on her hips.

She shuddered, her thighs on either side of his cheeks, and she went rigid when his tongue traced along the seam of her labia, then swirled at her entrance. She was musky, salty, and so wet that he was already soaked from eyebrows to chin. 

Not that he was complaining. 

She squeaked - surprised? - and then she was grinding down on his mouth. 

This… was a new angle. He’d never done it like this before, but it wasn’t too hard, was it? He made his tongue stiffer, and he let her use his face - her clit against his upper lip, against his tongue, then against his nose, and that was… faintly uncomfortable, and kind of hard to breathe, but _fuck_ was it hot.

Hunk wrapped his lips around her clit, and he sucked on it, gently, flickering with the very tip of his tongue. He kept his hands on her hips, trying to guide her, tried to keep her from smothering him, and he kept licking and sucking, as he drooled down his chin. She was bucking her hips against his face, and it was hard to breathe, but she was beginning to go taut, her back arching.

She came with a gush, right across his face, and she collapsed to the side of the bed, panting like she’d been running a race. 

“Fuck,” Pidge said, and Hunk found her hand, squeezing her fingers. 

“You doing okay in there?” Hunk tried to keep his tone casual - Pidge would bristle if she thought he was feeling any kind of protective towards her.

“Yeah,” she said, and she licked her lips. “Wow.”

“I know, right?” 

“Hey, Hunk?”

“Yeah?” 

“... thanks.” 

He squeezed her fingers. “Of course. Team Punk forever!”

She gave an inelegant snort, and it made him smile. 

* * *

A few weeks later, Hunk and Keith sat at a table next to a food truck. 

… okay, so technically it was a cart that was being drawn by what looked like a land squid, but still. A food truck was a food truck was a food truck, regardless of where in the galaxy you were.

Everyone else was off doing their own thing - Lance was flirting with some lady who looked like a crab, except bipedal and also eyelashes. 

Somehow. 

Pidge was up to her elbows in some kind of alien tech and talking to yet another crab person.

Shiro was diplomatting. 

Which left… Hunk and Keith.

Hunk didn’t entirely know what to make of Keith - the guy was nice enough, but very… prickly. 

At least things were good with him and Pidge - he’d fallen asleep, still sticky with his own come and hers, and when he’d woken up, she’d been gone. She’d left him a note telling him that she’d gone off to her own room. When they’d both rushed towards their lions, there hadn’t been any awkwardness or… well, anything. It was just normal, Hunk and Pidge. 

She came to bed with him a few times, and she was pursuing certain things with the single minded efficiency that she did everything else with.

She was also shooting longing looks at Shiro, but he couldn’t really begrudge her that, could he?

But now… Hunk and Keith. 

“So,” said Hunk, and he looked down at his own plate, “how’s your burrito?” 

It wasn’t, technically, a burrito - it was made of squid skin (this was a very squid based economy, for a place that was basically a desert), and it was wrapped around… more squid. A lot of squid derivations, now that he thought about it. 

Keith shrugged, and then he gave a small smile. If Hunk didn’t know better, he’d have thought it was _sheepish_. “I, uh… I don’t have the best taste in food.”

“I don’t believe in there being “good taste” or “bad taste” when it comes to food,” said Hunk, and he mostly believed himself. “There’s just your taste.”

“That’s one way to look at it, I guess,” said Keith, and he took a bite out of his burrito. 

“What food do you miss from Earth?” Hunk rested his chin in his hands, watching as Keith chewed. 

Keith stared up at the sky, and Hunk couldn’t read his face, except that something was going on behind his face. 

“I… don’t know,” Keith said slowly. “I mean, I miss Earth, don’t get me wrong, but it still….” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. 

The fact that Keith didn’t have the most stable childhood slammed into the back of Hunk’s head like a brick, and he coughed, hitting himself in the chest. 

“I miss food from Earth,” Keith said, “although I didn’t eat much nice stuff back then. Lots of fast food.”

“Sometimes I think I’d legitimately kill a man for a McDonalds cheeseburger,” Hunk said gloomily. 

“Aren’t you Mister Gourmet?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Listen,” said Hunk and he leaned in close, so close that you could have fit a burrito between them and balanced it, “just because I can appreciate good food doesn’t mean I can’t like food that’s got less… fanciness.” He made a wide gesture, sitting back again. “I grew up eating stuff that other people turn their noses up to! Food is food is food, man. If it’s good to eat, why not eat it?”

Keith grinned at Hunk - the first wide, genuine grin that Hunk had seen from Shiro in a while. “You think?”

“Oh yeah,” said Hunk. 

“When I was a kid,” Keith said, “before my dad died, when, uh, when he’d had a good week, he used to take us both out to Taco Bell. He’d make jokes about the fact that he was taking years off of my life, but I’d always say that it was worth it, because who doesn’t love a cheesy burrito?” Then Keith’s face fell, and he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable all over again. 

Shit.

“I like frozen waffles,” Hunk said in a rush. 

“Frozen waffles?” Keith’s expression was neutral.

“Yeah,” said Hunk. “But not defrosted. Just cold. Frozen waffles.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “Don’t they get… soggy?”

“Not if they’re frozen enough,” Hunk said, his tone triumphant. “Then they’re _crunchy_.” 

"How did you end up in a situation where you were being fed frozen, crunchy waffles?" Keith's expression looked torn between fascination and some kind of horror. "I thought your parents were all about the fresh, healthy food."

"My parents were, for the most part," Hunk agreed, "but my cousins were babysitting me." Hunk rested his chin in his hands, and he closed his eyes, momentarily in his parents old house - the one they'd moved out of when he was eight. "So my mom was watching my cousins, right? And she told my cousins to watch me for something, and then it was just me and my cousins. So I was, like, four, and I started demanding they give me food, only they weren't allowed to use the stove or the microwave."

"How old were your cousins?" Keith looked faintly bored, but he usually did when he was talking to other people. 

Hunk wished he could find a way to just... catch Keith's interest, and keep it. Maybe that was why he was talking to much. "They were, like, six. It wasn't an ideal situation."

"My dad used to leave me alone all the time when I was that age," said Keith, and there was something about his face that made Hulk's heart ache, just a bit. 

"Well," Hunk said quickly, "my cousins were desperate and I used to be a _really_ loud screamer -"

"Used to be," Kieth said dryly.

Hunk gave him a Look, but it was taking effort not to start grinning. "I was a really loud screamer," he repeated, "so my cousin grabbed a frozen waffle and literally just shoved it into my screaming mouth. And I bit it, and it was crunchy, and I _loved_ crunchy back then, and so I ate it, and demanded another... and that's the story of how I ate a whole box of frozen waffles in like ten minutes." 

Keith burst out laughing, and it was an ugly, honking laugh, but it made Hunk grin wider, because he was making Keith laugh, and that felt better than earning a medal. 

"Ten minutes," Keith wheezed, and he was curled over, still cackling - it was _ugly_ laughing, and he was slapping the table. 

"You okay there, man?" Hunk had never seen Keith lose control quite like _this_ , and it was a little bit unsettling, truth be told. 

Seeing Keith have an intense emotion of any kind was... well, new. Very new. Keith's face was bright red, and he was gasping for breath, but he was still giggling. Who knew he could giggle?

"Yeah," Keith said, and he finally caught his breath, his face in his hands. There were actual tears dripping down his face. "I'm, uh... I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting that to be quite so... funny." 

"No?" Hunk took another bite of his burrito. "Sometimes random stuff is just funny." 

"Yeah," said Keith, and he sighed. "You're right." He looked embarrassed. "I, uh... I don't have a lot of... a lot of experience with people. With groups of people. It's complicated." 

Hunk shrugged. "I've always felt kinda awkward around large groups of people, too," he said. 

"Really? You don't seem it," said Keith. He had left the rest of his squid burrito (squidrito?) on the plate. 

Hunk shrugged, taking another bite of his own burrito. "I just hide it well," he said, his mouth full. "I like people, I just sometimes get awkward."

Keith nodded. "I, uh... I admire that. About you." Now Keith was blushing, and who knew Keith had it in him to _blush_?

"Yeah?" Now Hunk was blushing. It was just a blush-a-palooza, and oh god, that was a word that Hunk had just thought. He chewed his alien burrito under the alien sky, and the most bizarre thing was that a guy was blushing at him. 

What a life.

"Yeah," said Keith, and then he laughed, clearly self conscious. "I guess, if you find any space Taco Bell, you can give me a call." Keith seemed to be out of socializing energy, because he was picking up his food and going off, probably to brood about something. 

Hunk tried not to stare after him, because, well.

Keith was good looking, in a lone wolf sort of way. Hunk had sighed after a few lone wolves over the course of his life, but usually found it exhausting. 

Then again, there were all of five human beings around, so what else were they going to do?

Hunk sighed, and he rubbed his face and went back to food. If nothing else, this was a chance to try all these exciting new foods, right? Hunk had always been one to appreciate new foods.

* * *

Hunk ended up making Keith Taco Bell. 

Well, not _real_ Taco Bell, obviously, because real Taco Bell wouldn’t have been made by Hunk, using alien flour and fat from alien chickens (best not to think too hard about that), but Hunk had found something that smelled like cheese, tasted like cheese if you were generous, and _melted_ like cheese, which was the really important stuff. (He still hadn’t found any rennet, unfortunately, so no _actual_ cheese). 

And okay, maybe Hunk was trying to impress Keith a little bit. A little-little bit. 

How could he not want to impress the cool lone wolf dude? 

Or maybe Hunk was going a little bit stir crazy, what with one thing and another, and he wanted to cook to clear his head as much as he could. 

Pidge hadn’t been feeling up for physical stuff for whatever reason - it wasn’t like Hunk was going to push it too had. She was still his friend, after all, and if all she wanted lately was to be up to her elbows in robot parts, who was he to judge? 

Lance was… himself, and as much as Hunk was fond of the guy (and Lance’s blowjobs, because… fuck), Hunk had his limits. 

So Lance stood in the kitchen of the Castle of the Lions (the Kitchen of the Lions? Although that brought on some weird mental images) and made a tortilla, melting the almost-cheese, boiling the popcorn beans.

Keith had said a “cheesy burrito,” which meant that there were probably other things in it. Hunk hadn’t eaten much Taco Bell, so some of this would have to be down to guesswork, but he could live with that. 

There were always more options. 

Hunk chopped tomatoes, and he cooked rice, and he tried not to think about the gnawing ache at the base of his skull. He added spices, and he assembled the whole mess of it, until it at least _looked_ like a burrito, right?

He made himself a small one, and he nibbled on it. 

… he didn’t know if it actually tasted like a real Taco Bell burrito, or if he had just forgotten what a proper burrito tasted like, and this was close enough. He couldn’t complain too hard, could he? In theory, Keith wouldn’t complain either, but… well, Hunk worried.

Especially when he hadn’t been explicitly asked to do this. 

Wait. 

Crap.

Was he being creepy about this?

Hunk groaned, pressing his face into the counter. 

Why couldn’t anything be simple?

But no.

Okay.

He could do this. 

Hunk took a deep breath, and he loaded the burrito onto a plate. He made his way down the hallway, towards Keith’s bedroom door, his heart in his throat.

This would be fine. It would all be fine.

* * *

Hunk knocked on Keith’s bedroom door, and he tried not to stare too hard when it was opened, and Keith stood there with no shirt on.

“What?” Keith looked irritated.

“I made you food,” Hunk said, and he held the plate out like an offering. “A burrito.”

“You made me a burrito,” Keith repeated back to him. “Didn’t we just eat burritos?”

“This is a _special_ burrito,” Hunk said. “For you. By me.”

“Oh,” said Keith. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“You said you missed it,” said Hunk. “So I thought I’d, uh… I thought I’d try.”

“Oh,” said Keith. He looked nonplussed. “Well. Thanks.” He took the plate, and then he closed the door. 

...ouch. 

Hunk looked at the closed door in his face for a second, and then he sighed, huffing his hair out of his face. “Nice job, Hunk,” he said out loud, and then he laughed at himself, some of his good humor returning in spite of himself. What had he been expecting? For Keith to fall to his knees praising Hunk’s cooking?

Hunk made his way back to the kitchen. He had a whole bunch of dishes to wash. 

… admittedly, washing dishes mainly meant putting them in the big, industrial dishwasher, but still.

At least he’d done something nice, right? Maybe Keith had been worried about showing too many feelings at once - Hunk knew how much food could stir up the feelings, and Keith wasn’t exactly a guy who liked to let all of his feelings show to the world at large. 

Let alone to his big, dumb teammate.

Hunk ate bits of his own Taco Bell burrito (which was greasy and bland, just the way a good Taco Bell burrito should be) as he bustled around the kitchen, cleaning up and ruminating in his own thoughts.

His tomato plants were almost completely finished - he’d saved seeds for the next replanting. He was going to miss seeing them there - tomatoes were also a pain and a half to get to grow in the first place.

Still.

Another project.

Another project that was _not_ about outer space diplomacy, or riding around in a giant lion, or blowing stuff up.

… okay, so the Paladin thing was starting to wear him down. He didn’t hate it, oh no! It was the best opportunity he’d ever been given.

But some part of him just wanted a few days off. Maybe a week. A week to just… _not_ do Paladin stuff, a week to just cook and repair stuff and generally just keep out of trouble. 

He ran his hand through his hair, and he leaned back against the counter. 

Things would be alright. 

They would all be great.

* * *

A week later, Keith sidled up to Hunk. 

It was a proper sidle, too, down to a faintly shifty look. 

“So, uh, Hunk?” Keith leaned against the control panel that Hunk was currently fiddling with, his hands in his pockets. 

“What’s up?” Hunk was lying flat on his back, and he scooted out a bit, looking up at Keith upside down. 

“Would you want to go down to the planet with me? Tomorrow, I mean.”

“Why?” 

“I found a thing I think you’d like,” Keith said. 

… was Hunk imagining things, or did Keith look nervous? Did Keith even have it in him to be nervous? Go figure!

“What kinda thing?”

“It’s a surprise,” said Keith, and he shot Hunk a nervous look. “So would you want to?”

“Yeah,” said Hunk, and he sat up, nearly braining himself on the control panel. “Do I need to bring anything, wear anything, whatever?”

“Nah,” said Keith. “Just be yourself. Bring yourself. I was, uh, I was exploring it the other day, when I found a whole weird little market.”

“Huh!” Hunk brought his knees up to his chest. “Could be fun!” 

Keith nodded. “Definitely,” he said. “I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” Hunk said, although he was beginning to get the sense that they were talking about… something else. He wasn’t sure what. 

“Thanks,” said Keith. “So we can do it after training tomorrow?” 

“Sounds like a plan!”

* * *

Hunk agonized over whether to shave more than he usually did, to put on aftershave, if he should wear something especially… nice. 

Fuck it. 

If this was some big date thing, it’d be a big date thing with him, and he was a guy who was… himself. 

Or maybe he was thinking about this too deeply. That was totally an option!

* * *

The Castle of Lions was “parked” about ten minutes from the city - it was a city, even if it was made up of tents. 

They walked in silence, although Keith kept shooting Hunk worried looks. 

It was making Hunk antsy, honestly. 

“Are you okay?” Hunk shot Keith a worried look as the two of them made their way through the tents. 

“Yeah,” said Keith, although he had his hands shoved in his pockets. “Can I ask an awkward question?”

“Sure,” said Hunk, although this was beginning to feel like the awkward encounters he’d had with Pidge. 

“How do you… how do you know how to take care of people?” Keith said it all in a rush, as if he was embarrassed.

“What do you mean?” One of the local aliens - they looked like giant hyenas mixed with iguanas, only bipedal, rainbow, and a lot… toothier was trying to get him to buy what looked like a bottle with some smoke swirling in it. 

He crowded a little closer to Keith - nobody was trying to get _Keith_ to buy anything! 

“I… I like people,” Keith said slowly. “I mean, I’m… I wouldn’t be happy if every other person in the world just disappeared.” 

“Well, you don’t wear glasses,” said Hunk, and almost immediately regretted it, because why would Keith know about the Twilight Zone?

… only for Keith’s whole face to break open in a genuine smile. 

“Yes,” Keith said. “Exactly.” 

Hunk’s heart beat a little faster, the way it always did when he managed to get Keith to grin like that, and he tried not to roll his eyes at himself, because Keith might take it the wrong way. But also… score!

“You don’t look like the Twilight Zone type,” Hunk said.

“I always thought it was neat,” said Keith. “I also used to stay up late, waiting for my dad to get back from jobs sometimes, and then when I was in a few different foster homes in the same area, they always played the Twilight Zone at weird hours.” Keith’s face lost its easy comfort, and he cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t, uh… I didn’t like other people that much, so the only uninterrupted television time I really had was at two in the morning, watching Twilight Zone reruns.”

“My dad really liked old school science fiction,” said Hunk. “So lots of Star Trek, lots of Twilight Zone, Doctor Who. He had those giant boxed collections of the VHS tapes, back when that was a thing, and then he got the DVDs. We had about four different versions of ‘em, altogether.”

Keith nodded, and then he reached out, grabbing Hunk’s hand and pulling him forward.

Hunk was about to say something… when a giant guinea pig scrabbled by.

It obviously wasn’t a guinea pig - guinea pigs didn’t have spines, didn’t have claws, and didn’t bellow like bulls.

But it looked enough like one that Hunk had to do a double take. 

There was a very old hyena person riding it, and Hunk couldn’t tell if they were laughing or screaming. 

“Should we… do something about that?” Hunk indicated over one shoulder, although Keith’s hand was still burning on his wrist, and Keith’s face was right up in his own face.

“It’s being taken care of,” Keith said, and he cleared his throat, taking a step back.

There had definitely been a moment there - Hunk wasn’t imagining it. 

… right?

Hunk looked over his shoulder, and saw someone grabbing the guinea pig in what looked like a lasso made of purple light, pulling the guinea pig along. 

It was making pathetic noises, but nobody seemed to be hurting it. 

“Right,’ said Hunk, as the two of them made their way along the street. 

“I just, uh… I admire the way you remember stuff about people,” said Keith, and he was still blushing. “The way you… I’m not very good at that.”

“Some of it is just practice, honestly,’ said Hunk. “I grew up in a big family, so there were always people around.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah,” said Hunk. “You’re good at so many things. I bet you’d do great, if you put your mind to it a bit.” He paused. “Which isn’t to say you’re not putting your mind to it now,” he added quickly. “But it can take more… directed….”

“I found a place that makes frozen waffles,” Keith said in a rush, as they stopped in front of a food stall, where a hyena man was doing… something.

“Frozen… waffles?” It took Hunk’s mind a minute to catch up.

“You said you like frozen waffles,” Keith said. “And you made me that burrito, and also I know you’ve been doing other things for other people, and I… I noticed that a lot of people haven’t been doing anything for _you_ , and I figured, since you work so hard -”

“Dude,” said Hunk, and then he hugged Keith, which was probably a bad idea because it was a good way to get stabbed, except Keith didn’t complain, he just let himself be hugged. 

Hunk gave Keith a squeeze, and then he took a step back, wiping his face with the back of one hand. 

… okay, so he was a big softie, but who cared? He was having feelings, and sometimes they came out of his face. 

He sniffed, once, to keep from doing anything _especially_ embarrassing, and then he grinned at Keith, trying not to look too pleased. “Thanks,” he said.

“Of course,” said Keith, and he smiled back, a little nervous. “Thank you for the burrito.”

“Let’s go have some weird space frozen waffles,” said Hunk. 

“This should… certainly be an experience,” said Keith, and he put on an expression that was clearly supposed to be excited.

It was certainly an attempt. 

* * *

It wasn’t a frozen waffle.

It was waffle shaped, to be sure - sort of. It reminded Hunk of a brick of a fried ramen in terms of texture, and had a yucca-ish, or maybe casava flavor. There were various spices added, including something that was like if you added garlic and mint, which should have been bad, but… wasn’t.

It was also cold.

It crunched under his molars - was this made with liquid nitrogen? It kinda reminded him of rolled ice cream, only not sweet. 

“This is… weird,” said Ketih, and he looked faintly embarrassed, as the two of them sat at the picnic table again. “I don’t usually go in for trying the new food, because….” He shrugged, and he looked embarrassed. 

“Because?”

“It’s just food,” said Keith, and then he must have caught Hunk’s scandalized look. “Well, okay, it’s not _just_ food, but it’s not, like… I never thought of it as more than fuel.” 

“Right,” said Hunk. 

“But you make it into… like, you make it _mean_ things,” said Keith, and he looked like he was having some kind of feeling, althogh Hunk wasn’t sure what it was, and didn’t have the brain power to try to decode whatever it was that went through Keith’s head. 

“Food always means things,” said Hunk. “I mean, it doesn’t have to, to everyone, but… it’s important to a lot of people.”

“Right,” said Keith, and he bit one of the odd cold waffle… things. “Do you think you could make this?”

“Probably, if I had the right equipment,” said Hunk. “If I could make it work with Vrepit Sal, I can make anything work.”

Keith grinned. “That was fun,” he admitted.

“What, even dealing with that guy trying to steal your knife?”

“We don’t get involved in a lot of stuff that lets us just… relax,” said Keith, “or at least, that isn’t life or death.”

“Right,” said Hunk. “That makes sense.” 

* * *

Hunk and Keith just… talked.

It could be a bit hard to get Keith to talk much - the guy was as close lipped as an oyster sometimes - but once he got going, he seemed to be doing pretty well. 

They went back to the Castle, and Hunk considered it a day well spent. Maybe not exactly the way he’d imagined it, but still. 

He’d gotten Keith to open up a bit, he’d gotten a chance to try new food and explore a new planet… altogether satisfying!

* * *

Hunk didn’t think too much about it, until Keith knocked on his bedroom door one evening.

Hunk opened the door, and found… Keith standing there, holding a plate. 

He looked nervous.

“Uh, can I help you?” Hunk wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he had been about to enjoy his downtime a bit. (By which he meant jerk off, although his hard on had gone down when he’d opened the door, thankfully). 

“I couldn’t figure out how to make waffles,” Ketih burst out. “Lance gave me a recipe, but he didn’t have a way to make them, like, waffle shaped. And I couldn’t figure out how to make them cold, so they’re just kinda… there.” He thrust the plate at Hunk, and looked like he was going to run off.

“Share them with me?” Hunk said, before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

Why had he said that?! 

“What?” Keith looked surprised. 

“Share them. With me. It’s nice to share food with people.” Hunk blushed, cleared his throat, and took a step back. His bedroom was a bit of a mess. “Let me just… put a shirt on.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Keith said quickly, and he sat on the bed, his hands in his pockets. The door closed, and it was just the two of them in the small room. 

“Thank you,” said Hunk, and he meant it - he was genuinely touched, in a way he hadn’t expected to be. 

“You, uh… you take good care of us. Of all of us,” said Keith. “I figured I’d do the same for you.”

Hunk sat down next to him, and he took one of the… cylinders off of the plate. 

They looked like hockey pucks. 

He took a bite out of one, and it crunched, but the flavor was familiar.

“How’d you get the sweetness?” Hunk chewed, carefully.

“I tasted all the things in the cupboard you’ve got until I found something that more or less tasted right,” said Keith.

“Right,” said Hunk. “Makes sense.”

There was an awkward silence, as Hunk chewed, and then Keith took a bit of waffle for himself, and chewed it as well. 

“I… you’re a good guy, Hunk,” said Keith, and then he was… _leaning forward_ , and he was kissing Hunk.

He was full on kissing Hunk, on the mouth, and Hunk pulled back, making a surprised noise. 

“Keith?”

“Shit,” said Keith, and he stood up so fast that he nearly dropped the plate of waffles, and then he was walking towards the door quickly - so quickly.

Hunk grabbed at Keith’s wrist, and he just… held it, squeezing it. “It’s okay,” he told Keith. “It’s okay. You don’t… you don’t have to run.”

“I shouldn’t have - I was -” Keith looked _panicked_. 

Shit.

Hunk put the plate down, and then he squeezed Keith’s wrist again. 

“It’s okay,” said Hunk. “I’m not… mad or freaked out or anything like that. I promise. It’s great. Absolutely great. I was just, uh… surprised.”

“Are you sure?” Keith looked unconvinced. 

“I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t okay,” said Hunk. “Although if you don’t… I mean, you don’t have to feel like you _have_ to do anything either, because… you don't owe me anything. No matter what.”

“Right,” said Keith. “Of course.”

And then he was pressing close to Hunk, chest to chest, and Hunk had the plate of waffles pushed off to the side, but they were kissing again - they were _kissing_ , deep kissing, and it tasted like the weird waffles. 

And then Hunk was being pushed back into the bed, and Keith was straddling him, and they were kissing each other, and Hunk was holding on to Keith, holding on tightly to Keith’s waist, then pulled him closer, and he ground his hips forward, because his cock was waking up all over again. 

Oh _god_. 

Keith kissed with a lot more feeling than he spoke, his tongue in Hunk’s mouth, his hands in Hunk’s hair, along Hunks’ sides, Hunk’s back, Hunk’s belly.

Keith was grinding his hips, and he was panting, his knees digging into Hunk’s sides. His hands were sweaty, and Hunk was sweaty, and then he was… he was grinding down, he was pushing Hunk’s pants down, and Hunk’s cock was between the two of them, rough against Keith’s pants, soft against Hunk’s belly.

“You don’t… you don’t have to do that,” Hunk mumbled, although he was trying not to moan too hard, as Keith awkwardly rubbed his cock, spreading pre-come along it. 

“I want to,” Keith said, and his fist moved a little faster, which.. ow.

“Well,” said Hunk, “hold on a sec, let me just….” His own hands fumbled at Keith’s belt, and then he was reaching into them, squeezing Keith’s cock. 

… which felt different from any human cock he’d experienced, but then again, he hadn’t experienced all _that_ many, had he? 

Hunk moaned, and he pressed their cocks together, his hand around both, keeping them tight. 

“Oh,” Keith said quietly. “ _Oh_.”

“I know, right?” Hunk’s voice cracked. “Isn’t it?” 

“Isn’t it… isn’t it what?” Keith was clutching at Hunk’s shoulders, fucking Hunk’s fist, grinding their cocks together. They slid, slick with pre-come, hot with blood and skin. 

“I don’t know,” Hunk said. “I… I’m… mm… you feel good.” He leaned in, and he kissed along Keith’s neck - Keith smelled good, like himself, like sweat and person, like another human being.

Hunk hadn’t realized how much he’d miss the smell of other human beings.

He nipped Keith’s shoulder, gently, and then he moved up, towards Keith’s Adam’s apple, then at Keith’s pulse.

“Oh,” Keith said again, a little harder this time, and his hips were jerking, his cock pulsing against Hunk’s, and it was all… oh god, it was all a lot.

There was so much sweat, so much… everything. They were just wet, panting, pressed as close together as they could, and then Keith gasped into Hunk’s mouth, and he was coming across Hunk’s fingers, across Hunk’s belly, and Hunk’s own cock was beginning to pulse as he began to shudder, and he was using Keith’s own come as lube, and then he was… he was… oh… fuck….

Hunk came, and he sobbed, his whole body shaking, and he went completely limp, flopping back. 

“So… so next time,” Keith said, “I’ll make real waffles.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Hunk said, and he kissed Keith again, gentle and awkward. “Just gotta find a waffle maker.” 

“No problem,” Keith said, and he gave another snicker, then, “thanks.” 

“Hm?” 

“For… all of this,” Keith said. “For taking care of us. Thank you.” 

Hunk shrugged, and he sounded faintly embarrassed. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Thank the food.”

He more or less meant it, too.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Better Boy_ is a real tomato cultivar. No, really. 
> 
> * * * 
> 
> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze, or on my dreamwidth, theseusinthemaze!


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